Outta Town Case
by SycoMack
Summary: Original characters set in the Supernatural universe. A short story acting as a prologue for stories to come. Hope you enjoy this and future entries.


**Outta Town Case**

Her eyes were darting everywhere. Clutching the iron rod in her hands as if it was a crucifix while she sat on the hard-wood floor of her empty, former livingroom. Surrounding her was a circle of salt that she was told would protect her from what was about to happen. It was ridiculous, but somehow it made her feel safe, as if the salt was the base of an invisible and impenetrable wall.

The chime from her phone finally toned, signaling that it was 11:23pm. _Happy Anniversary_ , she thought to herself. Eight years ago today, at this very time, she killed her abusive husband. Courts found her not guilty because of the Battered Wife defense, but her late husband wasn't going to let her off that easily.

She moved out and sold the house six months after he died, but he still came to the house. Every woman that lived there, especially if they were married, would find that a force in the house would cause them "accidents".

Two weeks ago, it was pointed out to her that in the seven and a half years since she moved out, six different people had moved in and left after the women who lived there kept falling down stairs, got slammed in the face by doors, and would get cut deeply by broken pieces of stray glass. All the things she would to tell the doctors when she had gone to the emergency room.

But the worst would come on this day, at this time, when two married women who lived here were beaten to death by their husbands. Both of them claimed that they had no control over their bodies, as if they were possessed. They're still in prison to this day.

When told about everything that had occurred, she knew she could never let it happen to another woman ever again.

The house had been vacant for four months, and right now, it felt like a tomb. She only wished it wasn't going to be hers.

The temperature of the room dropped by 20 degrees within seconds. Her breath visible in the air when she exhaled. _He's coming_.

And with that thought, a spector appeared in the shadows before of her, beyond the barrier of salt.

"My Fairest?", he whispered. "You came back to me."

 _My Fairest_ , was his pet name for her. He had loved to do internet searches and found out that her name, Gwen, meant "Fair" and "White". It made him think of the story of Snow _White_ , who was the _fair_ est in the land.

He would use this epithet most after he was done hitting her. So the moment the spector spoke, Gwen felt as though all of her buises from eight years ago had resurfaced. Her shoulder that he had dislocated because she "ruined" her anniversary gift (a black negligee) in the wash, was aching as though it had just been set back into place.

"Dougie? Why? Why are you still here? Why are you hurting these women?" she managed to spit out to the silhouette of her late husband.

"They would've hurt their husbands, all wives do." the ghost rasped before moving forward. "Look at what you did to me!"

Doug was a bloody mess. His left side covered in blood that had been poring from his head. His left eye had been sucked into it's socket while his right eye was entirely fixed on her. Parts of his skull were visible from where Gwen had landed her blows with the metal base of the livingroom lamp.

She remembered grabbing it after Doug had wrapped his hands around her neck. He had accused her of cheating on him and demanded she tell him "The Truth". She was sure he was going to kill her this time.

Gwen had no idea how many times she had hit him, only that her arm was limp by the time she realized she was safe.

The Ghost of Doug was now standing just outside the salt line that was protecting Gwen from him touching her. He was frustrated that he couldn't get any closer and let loose a roar that shook the room.

Gwen rose the iron rod in her hands as if it was a baseball bat.

"Going to hit me again, my fairest?" his voice sounding demonic, "Wasn't enough last time?"

"You... are going to stop!" she exclaimed with as much confidence as she could muster, which sadly wasn't enough. He started to laugh.

The windows smashed inward and the wind gusted in, blowing away the protective salt. Doug was now right in front of her. She tried to swing the rod at him, but he caught her wrist before she could make contact.

"Oh fairest, you are going to be staying here with me, forever." He said as he run an icy finger down her cheek, tracing the path a tear had fallen. "Forev..." he stopped mid-word. "What's happening?" his voice had something in it that Gwen had never heard from him before. Fear.

It started at his feet then rose to engulf him in flames. He screamed though it all. The spector crumbled into ash on the floor which then started to evaporate like water on a hot pan.

He was gone and she was alone, but more importantly, she was safe.

 _BRRRING-A-DING-DING-DING_

Gwen practiacally jumped out of her skin at the sound of her phone going off. She fished it out of her pocket to reveal the caller as someone she hasn't given an ID to, but was the same number she was given on a card in her other pocket for an event service.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she chanted on into the phone, knowing exactly who was on the other end. "He's gone, gone for good. Thank you, thank you..." she continued.

Gwen was still repeating those two words over and over again even after the person on the other end had hung up without ever saying a word.

The six-foot deep hole glowed from the flames within it. The flickering light illuminating a gas can, a nearly empty bag of road salt and shovel nearby. As well as the headstone...

 **HERE LIES**

 **DOUGLAS KENNICK**

 **SEPT 1973 - OCT 2009**

Multicolored Converse shoes walked away from the blazing remains of Douglas Kennick, collected the can, bag and shovel before heading toward a large blue four-door truck.

Nyssa Browning, co-owner of Orion Events Planning and part-time Hunter came across this case while DJing a party outside of her home town. She never goes looking, but when she get wind of something nearby, she can't let her knowledge and experience go to waste.

Some say that it is impossible to be a "part-time" Hunter, that you can't have a life that the work doesn't (literally) bleed into.

But they don't know the things Nyssa knows, and no one can. The few people who ever learned about her true past are dead, and not by her doing. That's life, Hunter or not.

She climbed into her truck, tossed her supplies behind her in the backseat, started it up and began her drive back home. _No more dead bodies for me tonight_ , she told herself as she sang along to "Bad Company" as covered by Five Finger Death Punch.

After a couple hours drive, she reached the border of her town, Richwick. It doesn't happen to everyone, but when you enter this town, you might feel an energy pushing you back. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, demons and even angels can't get passed it this force. Only pure humans can get through with no problem, but for people with only a little something extra, they feel the push.

And though it is a bit annoying everytime she returns from the outside, she's glad she put that barrier up. No supernatural activity in Richwick since 2008.

And it will stay that way... right?

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
